Deep Down, a Tale of the Cornish Mines

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

  IN WHICH IS RECORDED A VISIT TO AN INFANT-SCHOOL; A WARNING TO ATHANKLESS OLD GENTLEMAN; ALSO A STORM, AND A SUDDEN AS WELL ASSURPRISING END OF A MINE, BESIDES DARK DESIGNS.

  Oliver Trembath's plan of "asking again" had to be put in practicesooner than had been anticipated, for the back alleys and lanes ofNewlyn were a little perplexing to a stranger.

  "Let us inquire here," said Tregarthen, seeing the half-open door of avery small cottage, with part of a woman's back visible in the interior.

  "By all means," said Oliver, pushing open the door and stooping low ashe entered.

  The visitors were instantly transfixed by thirty pair of eyes--all ofthem bright blue, or bright black--few of them elevated much more thantwo feet from the ground, and not one of them dimmed by the smallestapproach to a wink. Nay, on the contrary, they all opened so wide whenthe strangers entered that it seemed as if either winking or shuttingwere in future out of the question, and that to sleep with eyes wideopen was the sad prospect of the owners thereof in all time coming.

  "An infant-school," murmured Tregarthen.

  The very smallest boy in the school--an infant with legs about fiveinches long, who sat on a stool not more than three inches high--appeared to understand what he said, and to regard it as a personalinsult, for he at once began to cry. A little girl with bright redhair, a lovely complexion, and a body so small as to be scarce worthmentioning, immediately embraced the small boy, whereupon he dried hiseyes without delay.

  "You have a nice little school here," said Oliver.

  "Iss, sur; we do feel proud of it," said the good-looking motherly damein charge, with a little twitch of her shoulders, which revealed thehorrible fact that both her arms had been taken off above the elbows,"the child'n are very good, and they do sing bootiful. Now then, letthe gentlemen hear you--`O that'll be'--come."

  Instantly, and in every possible pitch, the thirty mouths belonging tothe thirty pair of eyes opened, and "O that will be joyful," etcetera,burst forth with thrilling power. A few leading voices gradually turnedthe torrent into a united channel, and before the second verse wasreached the hymn was tunefully sung, the sweet voice of the little girlwith the bright hair being particularly distinguishable, and the shrillpipe of the smallest boy sounding high above the rest as he sang, "Othat will be doyful, doyful, doyful, doyful," with all his might andmain.

  When this was finished Tregarthen asked the schoolmistress whatmisfortune had caused the loss of her arms, to which she replied thatshe had lost them in a coach accident. As she was beginning to relatethe history of this sad affair, Oliver broke in with a question as towhere old Mr Hitchin's house was. Being directed to it they took leaveof the infant-school, and soon found themselves before the door of asmall cottage. They were at once admitted to the presence of the testyold Hitchin, who chanced to be smoking a pipe at the time. He did notby any means bestow a welcome look on his visitors, but Oliver,nevertheless, advanced and sat down in a chair before him.

  "I have called, Mr Hitchin," he began, "not to trouble you about thematter which displeased you when we conversed together on the beach, butto warn you of a danger which I fear threatens yourself."

  "What danger may that be?" inquired Hitchin, in the tone of a man whoheld all danger in contempt.

  "What it is I cannot tell, but--"

  "Cannot tell!" interrupted the old man; "then what's the use oftroubling me about it?"

  "Neither can I tell of what use my troubling you may be," retortedOliver with provoking coolness, "but I heard the man speak of you on thebeach less than an hour ago, and as you referred to him yourself Ithought it right to call--"

  At this point Hitchin again broke in,--"Heard a man speak of me--whatman? Really, Mr Trembath, your conduct appears strange to me. Willyou explain yourself?"

  "Certainly. I was going to have added, if your irascible temper wouldhave allowed me, that the notorious smuggler, Jim Cuttance--"

  Oliver stopped, for at the mention of the smuggler's name the pipedropped from the old man's mouth, and his face grew pale.

  "Jim Cuttance!" he exclaimed after a moment's pause; "the villain, thescoundrel--what of him? what of him? No good, I warrant. There is nota rogue unhanged who deserves more richly to swing at the yard-arm thanJim Cuttance. What said he about me?"

  When he finished this sentence the old man's composure was somewhatrestored. He took a new pipe from the chimney-piece and began to fillit, while Oliver related all that he knew of the conversation betweenthe two smugglers.

  When he had finished Hitchin smoked for some minutes in silence.

  "Do you really think," he said at length, "that the man means to do mebodily harm?"

  "I cannot tell," replied Oliver; "you can form your own judgment of thematter more correctly than I can, but I would advise you to be on yourguard."

  "What says your friend?" asked Hitchin, turning towards Tregarthen, ofwhom, up to that point, he had taken no notice.

  Thus appealed to, the youth echoed Oliver's opinion, and added that theremark of Cuttance about his intention not to do something unknown_that_ night, and Joe Tonkin's muttered expressions of disbelief and anintention to watch, seemed to him sufficient to warrant unusual cautionin the matter of locks, bolts, and bars.

  As he spoke there came a blinding flash of lightning, followed by a loudand prolonged peal of thunder.

  Oliver sprang up.

  "We must bid you good-night," he said, "for we have to walk to St. Just,and don't wish to get more of the storm than we can avoid."

  "But you cannot escape it," said Hitchin.

  "Nevertheless we can go as far as possible before it begins, and thentake shelter under a bush or hedge, or in a house if we chance to benear one. I would rather talk in rain any day than drive in akittereen!"

  "Pray be persuaded to stop where you are, gentlemen," said the old manin a tone of voice that was marvellously altered for the better. "I canoffer you comfortable quarters for the night, and good, though plainfare, with smuggled brandy of the best, and tobacco to match."

  Still Oliver and Tregarthen persisted in their resolution to leave,until Hitchin began to plead in a tone that showed he was anxious tohave their presence in the house as protectors. Then their resolutionbegan to waver, and when the old man hinted that they might thus findtime to reconsider the matter of the Wherry Mine, they finally gave in,and made up their minds to stay all night.

  According to the opinion of a celebrated poet, the best-laid plans ofmen as well as mice are apt to miscarry. That night the elementscontrived to throw men's calculations out of joint, and to render theircupidity, villainy, and wisdom alike ineffectual.

  A storm, the fiercest that had visited them for many years, burst thatnight on the southern shores of England, and strewed her rocks and sandswith wrecks and dead bodies. Nothing new in this, alas! as all know whodwell upon our shores, or who take an interest in, and read the recordsof, our royal and noble Lifeboat Institution. But with this greatsubject we have not to do just now, further than to observe, as we havesaid before, that in those days there were no lifeboats on the coast.

  Under the shelter of an old house on the shore at Penzance were gatheredtogether a huge concourse of townspeople and seafaring men watching thestorm. It was a grand and awful sight--one fitted to irresistiblysolemnise the mind, and incline it, unless the heart be utterlyhardened, to think of the great Creator and of the unseen world, whichseems at such a season to be brought impressively near.

  The night was extremely dark, and the lightning, by contrast, peculiarlyvivid. Each flash appeared to fill the world for a moment with lambentfire, leaving the painful impression on observers of having been struckwith total blindness for a few seconds after, and each thunderclap camelike the bursting of artillery, with scarcely an interval between theflash and crash, while the wind blew with almost tropical fury.

  The terrible turmoil and noise were enhanced tenfold by the raging surf,which flew up over th
e roadway, and sent the spray high above and beyondthe tops of the houses nearest to the shore.

  The old house creaked and groaned in the blast as if it would come down,and the men taking shelter there looked out to sea in silence. Thebronzed veterans there knew full well that at that hour many adespairing cry was being uttered, many a hand was stretched wildly,helplessly, and hopelessly from the midst of the boiling surf, and manya soul was passing into eternity. They would have been ready then, aswell as now, to have risked life and limb to save fellow-creatures fromthe sea, but ordinary boats they knew could not live in such a storm.

  Among the watchers there stood Jim Cuttance. He had been drinking at apublic-house in Penzance, and was at the time, to use his ownexpression, "three sheets in the wind"--that is, about half-drunk. Whathis business was nobody knew, and we shall not inquire, but he was thefirst to express his belief that the turret and bridge of the WherryMine would give way. As he spoke a vivid flash of lightning revealedthe stout timbers of the mine standing bravely in the storm, each beamand chain painted black and sharp against the illumined sky and thefoaming sea.

  "She have stud out many a gale," observed a weather-beaten old seaman;"p'raps she won't go down yet."

  "I do hope she won't," observed another.

  "She haven't got a chance," said Cuttance.

  Just then another flash came, and there arose a sharp cry of alarm fromthe crowd, for a ship was seen driving before the gale close in upon theland, so close that she seemed to have risen there by magic, andappeared to tower almost over the heads of the people. The moments ofdarkness that succeeded were spent in breathless, intense anxiety. Theflashes, which had been fast enough before, seemed to have ceasedaltogether now; but again the lightning gleamed--bright as fullmoonlight, and again the ship was seen, nearer than before--close on thebridge of the mine.

  "'Tis the Yankee ship broken from her anchors in Gwavus Lake," exclaimeda voice.

  The thunder-peal that followed was succeeded by a crash of rendingtimber and flying bolts that almost emulated the thunder. Certainly ittold with greater power on the nerves of those who heard it.

  Once again the lightning flashed, and for a moment the American vesselwas seen driving away before the wind, but no vestige of Wherry Mineremained. The bridge and all connected with it had been completelycarried away, and its shattered remnants were engulfed in the foamingsea.

  It deserved a better fate; but its course was run, and its hour hadcome. It passed away that stormy night, and now nothing remains but afew indications of its shaft-mouth, visible at low water, to tell of oneof the boldest and most singular of mining enterprises ever undertakenand carried out by man.

  There was one spectator of this imposing scene who was not very deeplyimpressed by it. Jim Cuttance cared not a straw for storms or wrecks,so long as he himself was safe from their influence. Besides, he hadother work in hand that night, so he left the watchers on the beach soonafter the destruction of the bridge. Buttoning his coat up to the neck,and pulling his sou'-wester tight over his brows, he walked smartlyalong the road to Newlyn, while many of the fishermen ran down to thebeach to render help to the vessel.

  Between the town of Penzance and the village of Newlyn several old boatslay on the grass above high-water mark. Here the smuggler stopped andgave a loud whistle. He listened a moment and than repeated it stilllouder. He was answered by a similar signal, and four men in sailor'sgarb, issuing from behind one of the boats, advanced to meet him.

  "All right, Bill?" inquired Cuttance.

  "All right, sur," was the reply.

  "Didn't I tell 'ee to leave them things behind?" said Cuttance sternly,as he pointed to the butt of a pistol which protruded from thebreast-pocket of one of the men; "sure we don't require powder and leadto overcome an old man!"

  "No more do we need a party o' five to do it," replied the man doggedly.

  To this Cuttance vouchsafed no reply, but, plucking the weapon from theman, he tossed it far into the sea, and, without further remark, walkedtowards the fishing village, followed by his men.

  By this time the thunder and rain had abated considerably, but the galeblew with increased violence, and, as there were neither moon nor stars,the darkness was so intense that men less acquainted with the localitywould have been obliged to proceed with caution. But the smugglers knewevery foot of the ground between the Lizard and the Land's End, and theyadvanced with rapid strides until they reached the low wall thatencompassed, but could not be said to guard, old Mr Hitchin'sgarden-plot.

  The hour was suited for deeds of darkness, being a little aftermidnight, and the noise of the gale favoured the burglars, who leapedthe wall with ease and approached the back of the cottage.

  In ordinary circumstances Hitchin would have been in bed, and Cuttanceknew his habits sufficiently to be aware of this; his surprise,therefore, was great when he found lights burning, and greater stillwhen, peeping through a chink of the window-shutter, he observed twostout fellows seated at the old man's table. Charles Tregarthen he hadnever seen before, and, as Oliver Trembath sat with his back to thewindow, he could not recognise him.

  "There's company wi' the owld man," said Cuttance, returning to hiscomrades; "two men, young and stout, but we do knaw how to manage they!"

  This was said by way of an appeal, and was received with a grin by theothers, and a brief recommendation to go to work without delay.

  For a few minutes they whispered together as to the plan of attack, andthen, having agreed on that point, they separated. Cuttance and the manwhom he had called Bill, went to the window of the room in which Hitchinand his guests were seated, and stationed themselves on either side ofit. The sill was not more than breast high. The other three menquickly returned, bearing a heavy boat's-mast, which they meant to useas a battering-ram. It had been arranged that Cuttance should throw upthe window, and, at the same moment, his comrades should rush at theshutter with the mast. The leader could not see their faces, but therewas light sufficient to enable him to distinguish their dark formsstanding in the attitude of readiness. He therefore stepped forward andmade a powerful effort to force up the window, but it resisted him,although it shook violently.

  Those inside sprang up at the sound, and the smugglers sank down, as ifby mutual consent, among the bushes which grew thickly near the window.

  "I told you it was only the wind," said Oliver Trembath, who had openedthe shutter and gazed through the window for some time into thedarkness, where, of course, he saw nothing.

  Well was it for him that Cuttance refused to follow Bill's advice, whichwas to charge him through the window with the mast. The former knewthat, with the window fastened, it would be impossible to force anentrance in the face of such a youth as Tregarthen, even although theysucceeded in rendering the other _hors de combat_, so he restrainedBill, and awaited his opportunity.

  Oliver's remark appeared to be corroborated by a gust of wind which camewhile he was speaking, and shook the window-frame violently.

  "There it is again," he said, turning to his host with a smile. "Dependupon it, they won't trouble you on such a night as this."

  He closed and refastened the shutter as he spoke, and they all returnedto their places at the table.

  Unfortunately Oliver had not thought of examining the fastening of thewindow itself. Had he done so, he would have seen that it was almostwrenched away. Cuttance saw this, however, and resolved to make surework of it next time.

  When the men with the battering-ram were again in position, he and Billapplied their united strength to the window, and it instantly flew up tothe top. At same moment, bolts and bars gave way, and the shutter wentin with a crash. Making use of the mast as a rest, Cuttance sprang onthe window-sill and leaped into the room.

  The whole thing was done with such speed, and, if we may so express it,with such simultaneity of action, that the bold smuggler stood beforethe astonished inmates almost as soon as they could leap from theirchairs. Cuttance ducked to evade a terr
ific blow which Oliver aimed athim with his fist, and in another instant grappled with him. Tregarthenrushed to the window in time to meet Bill, on whose forehead he planteda blow so effectual that that worthy fell back into the arms of hisfriends, who considerately let him drop to the ground, and made a unitedassault on Charlie.

  Had Oliver Trembath possessed his wonted vigour, he would speedily haveovercome his adversary despite his great strength, but his recentillness had weakened him a little, so that the two were pretty equallymatched. The consequence was that, neither daring to loosen his hold inorder to strike an effective blow, each had to devote all his energiesto throw the other, in which effort they wrenched, thrust, and swungeach other so violently round the room that chairs and tables wereoverturned and smashed, and poor old Hitchin had enough to do to avoidbeing floored in the _melee_, and to preserve from destruction thecandle which lighted the scene of the combat.

  At first Oliver had tried to free his right hand in order to strike,but, finding this impossible, he attempted to throw the smuggler, and,with this end in view, lifted him bodily in the air and dashed him down,but Cuttance managed to throw out a leg and meet the ground with hisfoot, which saved him. He was a noted wrestler. He could give thefamous Cornish hug with the fervour of a black bear, and knew all themysteries of the science. Often had he displayed his great muscularpower and skill in the ring, where "wrestlers" were wont to engage inthose combats of which the poet writes:--

  "They rush, impetuous, with a shock Their arms implicit, rigid, lock; They twist; they trip; their limbs are mixed; As one they move, as one stand fixed. Now plant their feet in wider space, And stand like statues on their base."

  But never before had Jim Cuttance had to deal with such a man as OliverTrembath, who swung him about among the chairs, and crashed him throughthe tables, until, seizing a sudden opportunity, he succeeded inflinging him flat on the floor, where he held him down, and planted hisknee on his chest with such force that he nearly squeezed all the breathout of him.

  No word did Jim Cuttance utter, for he was incapable of speech, but thecolour of his face and his protruding tongue induced Oliver to removehis knee.

  Meanwhile Charlie Tregarthen had enough to do at the window. After hehad tumbled Bill out, as we have described, two of the other men sprangat him, and, seizing him by the collar of his coat, attempted to draghim out. One of these he succeeded in overthrowing by a kick on thechest, but his place was instantly taken by the third of the bearers ofthe battering-ram, and for a few minutes the struggle was fierce butundecided. Suddenly there arose a great shout, and all three tumbledhead over heels into the shrubbery.

  It was at this moment that Oliver rose from his prostrate foe. He atonce sprang to the rescue; leaped out of the window, and was in the actof launching a blow at the head of the first man he encountered, when avoice shouted,--"Hold on, sur."

  It is certain that Oliver would have declined to hold on, had not thevoice sounded familiar. He held his hand, and next moment Charlieappeared in the light of the window dragging a struggling man after himby the nape of the neck. At the same time Joe Tonkin came forwardtrailing another man by the hair of the head.

  "Has Cuttance got off?" inquired Tonkin.

  "No," replied Oliver, leaping back into the room, just in time toprevent Jim, who had recovered, from making his escape.

  "Now, my man, keep quiet," said Oliver, thrusting him down into a chair."You and I have met before, and you know that it is useless to attemptresistance."

  Cuttance vouchsafed no reply, but sat still with a dogged expression onhis weather-beaten visage.

  Hitchin, whose nerves were much shaken by the scene of which he had beena trembling spectator, soon produced ropes, with which the prisonerswere bound, and then they were conducted to a place of safe keeping--each of the victors leading the man he had secured, and old Hitchingoing before--an excited advance-guard. The two men whom Tregarthenknocked down had recovered, and made their escape just before the fightclosed.

  Oliver Trembath walked first in the procession, leading Jim Cuttance.

  "I gave you credit for a more manly spirit than this," said Oliver, ashe walked along. "How could you make so cowardly an attack on an oldman?"

  Cuttance made no reply, and Oliver felt sorry that he had spoken, forthe remembrance of the incident at the Land's End was strong upon him,and he would have given all he possessed to have had no hand indelivering the smuggler up to justice. At the same time he felt thatthe attempt of Cuttance was a dastardly one, and that duty required himto act as he did.

  It seemed to Oliver as if Joe Tonkin had divined his thoughts, for atthat moment he pushed close to him and whispered in his ear, "JimCuttance didn't mean to rob th' owld man, sur. He only wanted to givehe a fright, an' make un pay what he did owe un."

  This was a new light on the subject to Oliver, who at once formed hisresolution and acted on it.

  "Cuttance," he said, "it is not unlikely that, if brought to justice,you will swing for this night's adventure."

  He paused and glanced at the face of his prisoner, who still maintainedrigid silence.

  "Well," continued our hero, "I believe that your intentions against MrHitchin were not so bad as they would appear to be--"

  "Who told 'ee that?" asked the smuggler sternly.

  "No matter," replied Oliver, drawing a knife from his pocket, with whichhe deliberately cut the cords that bound his prisoner. "There--you arefree. I hope that you will make better use of your freedom in time tocome than you have in time past, although I doubt it much; but rememberthat I have repaid the debt I owe you."

  "Nay," replied Cuttance, still continuing to walk close to hiscompanion's side. "I did give you life. You have but given meliberty."

  "I'd advise you to take advantage of that liberty without delay," saidOliver, somewhat nettled by the man's remark, as well as by his coolcomposure, "else your liberty may be again taken from you, in which caseI would not give much for your life."

  "If you do not assist, there is no one here who can take me _now_,"replied Cuttance, with a smile. "However, I'm not ungrateful--good-night."

  As he said this, the smuggler turned sharp to the right into one of thenumerous narrow passages which divide the dwellings of Newlyn, anddisappeared.

  Charles Tregarthen, who was as sharp as a needle, observed this, and,leaving his man in charge of Tonkin, darted after the fugitive. He soonreturned, however, wiping the perspiration from his brow, and declaringthat he had well-nigh lost himself in his vain endeavours to find thesmuggler.

  "How in all the world did you manage to let him go?" he demandedsomewhat sharply of Oliver.

  "Why, Charlie," replied his friend, with a laugh, "you know I have notbeen trained to the duties of a policeman, and it has always been saidthat Jim Cuttance was a slippery eel. However, he's gone now, so we hadbetter have the others placed in safe custody as soon as possible."

  Saying this he passed his arm through that of old Mr Hitchin, and soonafter the smugglers were duly incarcerated in the lock-up of Penzance.